A Voice's Bane
by P.A.W.07
Summary: Maine does not lose his voice, but little good it does him. Thus, spins the wheel of fate and everything changes. Washington and South get Iota and Eta leaving Maine with the leftovers. Well, he won't let this jerk in his head keep him down … but he can't promise the same of Carolina if she gets her hands on him. AU. Trade fic for Shiranai Atsune.


A Voice's Bane: Maine does not lose his voice, but little good it does him. Thus, spins the wheel of fate and everything changes. Washington and South get Iota and Eta leaving Maine with the leftovers. Well, he won't let this jerk in his head keep him down … but he can't promise the same of Carolina if she gets her hands on him. Trade fic for Shiranai Atsune.

Disclaimer: If only, if only the plot bunny sings.

Image: We Are the Meta by Aracton.

Rating: Teen.

…

A voice, a voice.

I have a voice.

Deep, gnarled and rustic like thunder,

Yet no words can ever be rendered for the horrors in my head,

Memories, not mine, unshed.

Oh, how I've bled for them.

These memories, memories, deep in my throat.

I feel like I'm about to choke.

…

Maine ran his fingers over his throat, feeling the coarse skin of his fingers rub against softer flesh. It has been close, too close. Mind you he now had a bullet hole in the cartilage of his ear lobe from where that fucker had shot him, but at least it wasn't a bullet hole in the throat. York had merely laughed about it stating he could now wear pencils as an accessory … or spoons … or small mammals. And, if he had gotten shot in the throat, it wouldn't have mattered much. He didn't speak enough as it was.

York had promptly gotten punched in the throat for the comment.

Smiling darkly at the thought, Maine looked away from the mirror in the communal locker rooms when a shimmer of teal entered the room. It was Carolina, surprisingly. No one seemed to see her much in the public areas anymore. Not even the cafeteria. She seemed to be obsessed with the training room. She was always there, seeming to struggle just to burn off energy or maybe her stray thoughts … or she could just be angry.

Who knew with that woman. And yes, even he had noticed her change in demeanor. There was now this quiet fury about her. Her knuckles were always cracking as she pulled her hands into fists. In fact, her hands always seemed to be fists nowadays, be it on the training floor or merely sitting there silently with her hands atop the table. She even walked differently, like a juggernaut. She was a force to be reckoned with … yet she didn't seem to know where to direct that that drive, that _rage_. Thus, her obsession with the training room.

York, of course, kept smiling but even Maine could see the man was starting to crack. He had even caught the other agent chasing Caroline down, asking her in quiet tones what was wrong. At this point, he was like an old vinyl record that just kept skipping forever, trapped in an endless loop of false smiles and rejection. Carolina, of course, merely kept pushing York away, saying nothing was wrong. She just needed to train.

Personally, Maine guessed it had to do with that little devil in her ear: _Sigma_.

She barely dragged the AI out, but when she did … all the other AIs took notice. It was like they were waiting for something, waiting for Sigma and thus Carolina to explode. Mind you, it was just a flicker, a second that the AIs did this, but Maine had a nagging feeling that something was going on with the AIs. Perhaps that was why he wasn't offended when the twin AIs, Eta and Iota, were given to Washington and South Dakota.

The Director, to calm things down, had merely said the AIs were tools, but they were _so_ much more than that. They influenced you and your behavior to some degree. For one, Washington and South Dakota had somehow become as thick as thieves. And not in a romantic sense or anything. It was like they complimented each other in the way North's calm nature used to soothed South's rough exterior. If North noticed, he wasn't commenting much, though even Maine could see the strain in his smiles.

"Carolina," Maine finally said, nodding his head in her direction. Personally, he didn't know why he had spoken at all. Even to him, his voice sounded wrong like old rusted gears that were rubbing and grinding together from long disuse. Nonetheless, he continued forward. He supposed it was because he wanted to ask what it would be like when he got his own AI. The last AI if Eta and Iota were anything to go by.

Would it change who he was?

When she turned to him, there was something in her eyes, like a flicker of flames. She even grasped her helmet tighter as her red hair fell down around her shoulders. If he didn't know any better, he would say her form radiated loathing and hate, but he was not one to back away from a challenge. So, he asked his question, "When they give me my AI … will it change me?"

She merely looked at him and walked away. Apparently, his question was unfit for an answer.

…

Epsilon was going to be its name.

He secretly hoped it was nothing like Carolina's.

At first, during the implantation, there was a sting in the back of Maine's neck. Nothing terribly uncomfortable. Irritating mostly. Then, suddenly, it was like he had fallen through the ice and into frigid waters. He gasped, his hands grabbing onto the edge of the medical cot with a death grip just to keep him sitting, his head snapping back a second later. He could feel his eyes roll into the back of his head and he was sure he was foaming at the mouth. He had yet to cry out, though. The only sound he was making now were choked gasping noises.

He refused to scream.

The medics and techs, meanwhile, were trying to get him to lie down so they could put a mask on his face, but he couldn't let go of the edge of the bed. It was his only anchor to sanity right now. He didn't care if they had to break his fucking fingers to make him let go because if he let go, he'd be fully submerged into this _thing_ in the back of his head. Then … he would start screaming.

He didn't want to scream.

He didn't want to scream!

He was going to scream …

Maine held back his tortured cries for as long as he could. He didn't want to seem weak or unworthy. After all, no one else had screamed as far as he knew. Then again, from what he knew, no one else had felt like they were being ripped apart. He didn't want to be the first to scream during implantation.

Yet, in the end, his teeth feeling like they were going to crack as he ground them against each other, Maine was finally forced to open his mouth. A roar, like a dying lion, echoed down the corridors. He wasn't sure who came in after that to help the medics or how many were needed to get him on the cot and sedated, but he did know that it was a fight. He had to keep what was left of himself together. He couldn't be ripped apart again.

Then again, when they finally got the needle under his skin and his limbs strapped to the bed, his knuckles dripping blood … Maine wasn't so sure whose thoughts those were to begin with.

Then whose thoughts were they?

…

His thoughts were like a heavy cloud after that, consciousness floating back and forth like a fleeting memory. The only thing he was certain of was that he was in the medical bay and that he was strapped to a bed. He could feel the sheets and smell the antiseptic. He was sure the other Freelancers had stopped in and visited him. He was sure York had made a few weak jokes and that Washington had told him to get better. North had been kind when no one was around and held his hand. Tex had creepily stood over him, staring, but had said nothing. And Wyoming had merely frowned and told him to buck up.

He was also sure that the Director had happened to the foot of his bed, standing over him like an ominous shadow. The Counselor had not been far behind, his cool voice interrupting the beep of machines attached to him.

How he hated those tubes stuffed down his throat.

"They said it tried to commit suicide inside his head. It's a miracle Agent Maine is still alive," said the Counselor. "It probably has something to do with Maine's habit of not overthink things. It does bring into question why it's still implanted, though?"

Maine tried to move and ask the same question as well, but that _thing_ in his head was pulling him back under, wrapping itself around Maine's cool and collected thoughts like a constrictor. Perhaps, the Counselor was right. Maine didn't overthink things too much. He adapted and charged forward, his mind free of such worries. That was probably why this _thing_ liked his head so much. It could just fall between the cracks and thoughtless moments in his mind, making itself at home in his memories while running away from its own.

It left Maine to deal with those nightmares. His mind feeling sore and abused like a meat shield.

He hated the little fucker.

"I think you answered that question yourself, Counselor. Agent Maine doesn't analyze things too much. He just takes orders like a good soldier should. That's probably why the fragment is still in one piece. It's falling into those empty spaces, if you will, putting itself back together in Agent Maine's mind. To remove it now would be detrimental to the project," said the Director. "In fact, at this point, I don't know if we can safely remove Epsilon without seriously damaging Maine's mind."

"I see … and what of the Alpha's memories? What if Maine begins to think those thoughts are his?" asked the Counselor.

"Agent Florida will keep an eye on him. Won't you Florida?" said the Director, turning his head slightly as a blue set of armor stepped into the faint light.

Florida, speaking in a voice that was always too cheerful for a man that tortured people, confirmed the request. "Of course, I'll keep an eye on the big guy. I'd just love that."

Maine wasn't sure what else was said, but the _thing_ in his head was growing testy and terrified. Personally, Maine didn't want any more painful flashes right now either. So, he allowed that thing to pull him under and wrap itself up in his idle thoughts. Epsilon always seemed to like that. It was like the AI was covering himself up with Maine's simple thoughts much like a child covers itself with a blanket to hide from monsters in the closet.

What was wrong with this thing?

…

Time was less displaced after that, but there were still large portions of it missing. Maine could even remember sitting up, the tubes gone, and asking for a beer and a steak medium rare. The medic had looked at him like he had grown a second head, but had merely nodded saying they were glad he was awake and would get right on that.

He wasn't sure if he got his steak or not, but he remembered throwing jello once, growling how he needed some real food.

He also remembered CT coming into his room once, asking for him to remember. Remember what? He didn't fucking know but her words caused the nuisance in his head to burrow deeper, trying to get away from her tugging words. He never did see her again.

Then there was York sitting on his bed, mostly muttering to himself for Maine was in no condition to give advice. He kept asking what he should do. Caroline was acting strangely. She wasn't herself. He didn't know what to do.

North had smiled at him while visiting, stating he missed his silent support … and his sister. She was acting odd. She was never afraid of anything, but now he didn't recognize her anymore.

Wyoming came in to tell a joke and Maine remembered chuckling, surprising the mustache man.

The thing he remembered most, though, was an evening when most of the lights were off, machines blinking like fireflies in the background. At first, he thought death had come to take him, its shadow reaching down into his mad little world, but then there was a striking glint of teal in the darkness and locks so red it seemed as if the sun itself had gifted them to her. It wasn't death, it was only Carolina.

Personally, Maine had always thought Carolina was beautiful, especially with her striking eyes and lovely hair. He'd be a fool not to, but standing above him now, silent and staring like a ghoul measuring the weight of each limb and how long it would take to eat, he did not see that beautiful hell-fire Amazonian. He saw red. He saw hate.

Not-Carolina, for even her voice sounded wrong, told him to remember and that they wanted Epsilon. It also said … _We were the Meta_.

Then … there was fire.

He didn't recall how he got away. There was just a blaze, smoke, and flames. The ship's alarms were searing in the back of his head like rapid gun fire. Epsilon felt weak and disjointed in his mind, like a half-dead thing that had barely crawled away from a fight with its life. It didn't want to get up now, but it was afraid of _her_. The Meta, it reminded him. He didn't remember how he got his armor on, perhaps Epsilon had done it, but he was now stumbling for a weapon of some kind or maybe he would just settle for being able to walk straight.

He was vaguely aware that someone grabbed him under his armpit, pulling him out of the main corridor and into the shadows. They ended up getting punched in the face for their efforts. In turn, he got a butt of a gun to the back of the head.

Helmet being pulled off, blood in his eyes, Maine tried to focus on the blue helmet that fell into his blurry vision, a hand running through his hair and checking his head.

"Hey, hey, big guy. Focus, follow my fingers. Great! Now, it's not that we aren't glad to have you up and about, big boy, but we can't have you in sight right now," said Florida as he handed Maine's helmet back to him. Wyoming, in the background holding his nose, merely nodded in agreement. Well, at least Maine knew who he had punched.

"Now, even I can see you are slow and disoriented, bucko. I'd be that way too after nearly three months in bed. So how about we get you to an escape pod instead? I'll enter some coordinates and we'll get your merry ass the hell out of dodge, okay? We can't have her getting your AI, too. South was bad enough and Washington … the kid's pretty fucked up, but at least he's alive. Come on," said Florida, pulling him to his feet. It was a possessive grip, but Maine didn't pull away. There was just something about Florida. It was like he knew more than everyone else.

Epsilon, especially, didn't like it as Florida sat him down and entered some random ass coordinates into the escape pod's controls. What kind of fucking place was Blood Gulch anyway?

Not that he didn't immediately hack the escape pod's controls. Well, maybe not him. It was more Epsilon that had done it, but he found he couldn't disagree. For some reason, it was getting harder and harder to differentiate which thoughts were his and which were the AI's. At this point, he couldn't even tell if he was angry about it or not as his pod shot through space.

…

"Maine, please respond," came an echo over all frequencies. York's memorable voice striking a cord.

Epsilon was immediately inside Maine's forefront thoughts, chiding him like a child, "Don't even think about answering him, fucktard. I told you that they can track you that way. Whatever they have to say, it's a lie anyway."

Maine wanted to tell Epsilon to fuck off, but he didn't reply to York's summons. Nor had he replied to North's communication either last week. He knew they were looking for him … or Epsilon to be more accurate.

"They'll bring the Meta with them. You know that. She is always just a step behind them. You remember what the Director said … if she rips me from you neither of us may survive," continued Epsilon, in his know it all shitty little voice. "Besides, I'm not ready to die, cock-bite. Now, let's go. The Freelancers have nothing for us anymore."

"Maine! Maine!" came another echoing voice down the canyon, the white armored man suddenly shifting into the shadows of an off cropping. "We know you are here. Maine! Stop listening to Epsilon! He's malfunctioning! The Meta probably did something to it. Maine!"

Maine pulled his gun closer, watching as Washington called out to the surrounding expanse. York was not far behind. For some reason, the kid was great at tracking people down. He always seemed to be one step behind him.

"Don't do it, Maine. They're just pawns of the Director. He just wants us back because he knows the Meta wants us the most. It wants to remember the Alpha … but I don't want to. We don't want to if we want to stay sane."

For a moment more, Maine watched the two Freelancer's in the canyon search for him, a green glimmer of light showing that York still had Delta. If that wasn't a sign to get going, he didn't know what was. Delta was always the hardest to hide from. Crafty bastard.

"Come on … we have to go," said Epsilon, quietly. "The best thing we can do for them is to stay away. The Meta wants us more than them anyway."

And so … he turned away.

…

"You accepted a job doing what?!" squawked Epsilon, his hologram glitching for a moment at his side.

Maine cracked his neck, ignoring the sting of old memories that came with Epsilon when he got this way. It had taken time to overcome the bite that always came with them, the all-encompassing sorrow, but he could handle it. They had been together for over a year now … maybe two. He still lost track of time sometimes but, considering the situation, a lesser man would have gone mad by now. So, he considered that a win in his book.

He didn't get a lot of wins nowadays.

"Don't ignore me … and don't do that clear you mind thing to ignore my thoughts. It would be soooo easy for someone like Omega to get into your head if you did that while he was around," continued Epsilon as he crossed his arms over his chest and started tapping his foot.

Maine merely shrugged and thought of their ship and how it wasn't going to hold together much longer. The Director must have been getting desperate. He had nearly shot him out of the sky the last time their paths met.

"Don't just shrug at me. We are not doing this! Even for a new ship and some new gear. Jesus Christ, Maine! This is crazy! I know we need the money, explosives don't buy themselves, but really? A mercenary job … for an entire planet? Who … what? Who even hires people for that?"

Again, Maine shrugged. It wasn't like he was exactly a law-abiding citizen at this moment. Everyone wanted his head for one reason or another. All he wanted was to keep his head intact at this point.

Walking to the door in order to exit the barren room he had been given with this mercenary job, Maine willed Epsilon into hiding. His employers didn't exactly know about the AI and that was the way he liked it.

Epsilon, obviously glaring at him, flipped him off and grumbled, "We are not done talking about this butt-tard. Long ways from it."

Luckily, the hologram disappeared from existence, none too soon, because the moment he opened his door he was greeted by his employers. Well, at least the face of his employer. There was obviously someone else much richer calling the shots then Locus and Felix. They were probably going to search his room. Why else would they be in this barren hall? Not that he was going to stop them. Everything of importance to him he carried on his person anyway.

Nonetheless, Maine nodded to both Locus and Felix, the two other mercenaries merely nodding as he walked by. Felix probably thought he was out of hearing range when he turned the corner, but Epsilon caught every word.

"Well, he's an imposing figure. I'd hate to be alone with him in the communal showers," joked Felix as he played with his knife for a moment.

Locus turned his head and gave Felix a look. Mind you, he had on his full gear, but even with his helmet on, the action was understood.

"What? Look at him. He's a mountain … and apparently crazy. I hear he talks to himself … in two different voices. One of the other men caught him. That does not a good bath buddy make," continued Felix, ignoring Locus' quite stare.

Knowing better than to comment on Felix's twisted sense of humor, Locus instead stated, "I heard he has some violent friends. He has a fair bounty on his head as well. Alive and mostly unharmed, mind you."

"He has friends besides the one in his head? That's hard to imagine since the guy has only said about six words since we hired him," said Felix, flipping his knife in the air and catching it expertly.

"Yes, apparently everywhere he goes, he's followed by them. Also by death, mayhem, and destruction as well. A figure that cannot be seen. From what I was able to gather, he used to be part of a group called the Freelancers."

"Huh, sound like a bunch of freeloaders if you ask me. You sure we should keep him on board and not say … turn him in half dead for the bounty on his head?" said Felix with a grin under his helmet. "I think you can take him. Though I will bet on both sides."

Locus was sure Felix could feel his glare, but he continued in a normal tone nonetheless. "Well, which do you think will pay better? Turning in his bloody hide or killing everyone on Choras? Especially with those new busy bodies around."

Locus hummed, throwing himself away from the wall and towards Maine's door, key card between his fingers now instead of a blade. "Point taken, gruesome. Plus, if we look at it this way, if he ends up dead, maybe we can at least get half of the bounty. They really wanted his head."

As usual, Locus said nothing as he followed Felix into his room.

Maine, now walking again, cracked his neck. Well, if this didn't work out he could always kill those two and take their gear. Seemed only fair.

Epsilon had his own thoughts though. "Sooo … What do you think they meant by busy bodies? Sounds like a gaggle of chicks if you ask me. That … would be kind of hot. When was the last time you got laid, Maine? It would do wonders for your stress levels."

Maine merely rolled his eyes and kept walking. Sometimes he wondered what the hell was wrong with his AI. Then again, maybe it was best that he never know.

XXX

Paw07: Well, it took me a little longer than I thought it would, but here is my part of the fic exchange for Shiranai Atsune. One of the ideas they threw out was: _What if Maine didn't get shot in the throat and Carolina ended up having Sigma?_ Thus, this. I may write more if people like it. Happy reading!


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